


Wrath and Loyalty

by editoress



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Family, Gen, Mando Maul AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 12:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editoress/pseuds/editoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sidious suffers the consequences for breaking the Rule of Two: he loses his apprentice. But the attack that was supposed to kill young Maul takes an unexpected turn when a Mandalorian makes off with him instead.</p><p>Now Maul, Savage, and Feral will face their pasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kid

**Author's Note:**

> "What if Maul and his brothers were Mandalorians instead of Sith?" my friend said to me. "How much time do you have?" was my response. Maul, Savage, and Feral tend to display the loyalty, family bond, and warrior spirit to make this an easy transition.
> 
> This prologue focuses on the initial meeting between Maul and his new favorite Mandalorian. Later chapters will skip ahead to the whole happy family.

It was a whole planet of fire.  Though the ship descended through the atmosphere slowly, the air shimmered outside the viewports.  Even the insulated hull couldn't keep Anaale from imagining the heat outside in vivid detail.  At least her montrals were tucked safely in her helmet.

"This is the place," Telgar said hoarsely.  He had a solid reputation and a voice that sounded as though he'd just inhaled a lungful of smoke, two signs of a career bounty hunter.  He tapped at the helm to make sure his false ID was still transmitting.

"Friendly," Shoya commented.  Her tone was disdainful, but Anaale knew that the fact she was quipping at all meant the other Mandalorian was in a good mood.  Shoya's legs were stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles, making her a long streak of dark red armor.  "No wonder you got paid in advance."

"Only a percentage," Telgar grumbled, "so don't get any ideas."  He set the ship down with a hiss on a landing platform.  It bounced gently when they landed; the only thing between them and the lava was an industrial-sized repulsorlift.  Two armed droids had already appeared from the complex and were headed toward them across the suspension bridge.  Telgar grunted and got to his feet, stretching.  "I guess the party starts now."

"Any more instructions to share, _boss_?" Shoya pressed.

A scowl deepened the lines in his face.  "What, you need a map?  You're Mandalorians."  He shoved Shoya's rifle at her.  "Bang bang.  Shoot whatever moves.  Get paid."

Shoya looked straight at Anaale.  " _Aruetiise_ ," she said meaningfully.  She checked over her rifle and stood ready.

Telgar marched toward the boarding ramp.  "Whatever you said, can it."

"You're not wearing a helmet?" Anaale asked him.

"How long can it take to clear a complex this size?" Telgar scoffed.  He shouldered his repeater and was gone.  Anaale sprinted down the ramp just after Shoya, and they emerged into the scorching air of Mustafar.

The two droids were spare parts even before Anaale hit the dock.  Telgar was watching the bridge as they caught up.  "Target's inside.  Stay sharp."  He led the way into the complex, repeater sweeping the area in front of him.  Shoya, rifle propped on her shoulder, hung back to take the rear.  Their single file march meant that Telgar was the one to rake down any droid defenders that appeared—until the corridor opened up into a bare control room.

It took Anaale a few moments to realize what was wrong.  Three more corridors went off at right angles.  Consoles lined the walls.  Only some of them were lit up and streaming data, but the screens were normal.  But there were no control panels—no buttons, no keys, no switches.  Instead, droid sockets were scattered around the room.

"Are we sure there's anyone here?" Anaale asked dubiously.

Telgar ignored her.  "Split up," he ordered.  He took the left corridor.  Shoya glided like a ghost down the right, rifle almost unnaturally steady.  With another uneasy glance around the control room, Anaale stepped into the corridor straight ahead.

Droids paraded into view at intervals, forcing her to press against the wall as she fired her blaster pistol.  But droids were made for quantity, not quality.  As guards went, they were good for overwhelming and not much more.  But Anaale was beginning to question what kind of guards they were.

She'd assumed that she and Shoya had been hired to help break into a fortress, to take down a target despite their defenses.  It was nothing they hadn't done before.  But something was _wrong_.  The side rooms were cramped and sparse.  There was none of the luxury she would have expected from the kind of coward who holed up like this.  The complex's isolation had looked like protection, but it could well be something else.

The farther Anaale got, the more it looked like a prison.

It wasn't a large building, and the corridor ended abruptly in an open chamber.  One side was open to the fiery Mustafar air.  Anaale's visor filtered the sudden brightness, but the metal of her armor did nothing for the heat.  She scanned the room warily, but saw nothing.

Until a red lightsaber blazed into existence.  It spun through the air as a dark form leapt at her, arcing unnaturally through the air.

Anaale straightened and drew her vibroblade.  She and Shoya had not been chosen at random.  Whatever Telgar's faults, he was smart enough to know that when you tangled with Force-users, whether they were Jedi or Sith, you brought Mandalorians.  Anaale batted the lightsaber aside.  Her wrist rotated to bring her blade around, whistling toward the shadowy form—

The bad feeling that had been chasing her since the control room peaked, and she jerked her vibroblade to a halt, eyes widening.  "Whoa—kid, wait—"

It _was_ a kid, a Zabrak boy whose horns only came up to her chest.  He charged forward ferociously.  Anaale, caught off balance, parried his slashes wildly.  She vaulted over a table and managed to turn on her comlink.  "We have a situation!" she called.  The boy scrambled over the table after her, lightsaber biting into the surface.  Anaale put her blade in front of her, dancing backward.

Telgar's voice rasped over the comm.  "Did you find the target?"

"There's some kid back here!" Anaale said urgently.

"That's the target!" he barked.

" _What?_ "  She faltered.  "You didn't say—"  Her distraction cost her.  The boy drove past her guard.  She pushed herself up and back to keep her exposed lekku clear of the saber, but it grazed her stomach.  Anaale hissed, eyes watering.  The next time he came at her, she used her vibroblade to pin his saber against the wall.  It sparked and hissed, sinking into the metal.  "Not bad, kid," she allowed.  She trapped his wrist with one hand, freed her vibroblade, and chopped off the bottom of the lightsaber handle.

She must have cut into its power cell, because it crackled once and went out.  The boy stared at it with his mouth open, the first childlike expression she'd seen on him.  He flung the lightsaber away and faced her in a combat stance, eyes wide.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid," Anaale said in the most soothing voice she could muster.  "Look, I'm putting the sword away."  She slid the vibroblade back into its sheath and showed him her empty hands.  The boy just watched her.  He couldn't be more than ten, she decided.  Despite his solemn bearing and the fact that his cheeks had lost almost all their baby fat, he was too small to be any older than that.  "You want to tell me what you're doing here?"

In answer, a chair launched itself at her head.  Anaale ducked into a crouch.  " _Easy!_ "  He didn't seem to want to be convinced—which was fine with her, except that Telgar would eventually make his way here.  Out of ideas, she tugged her helmet off.  Hot air blasted her face.  "See?" she prompted uncertainly.  "Not so scary."

If anything, the boy was _more_ alarmed at the sight of her face.  He looked stunned.  Anaale wondered whether he had ever seen a Togruta before.  Or anyone else, for that matter.  "Are you here by yourself?" she asked softly.

They both started when a figure appeared at the doorway, but it was Shoya.  Anaale thanked the stars her friend had arrived before Telgar.  Shoya took a long look at the kid and then turned to Anaale.  "I take it we're not finishing the job."

"No way," Anaale agreed firmly.  "Shoya, I think somebody just _left_ him here."  She frowned at the boy.  "Is there anybody here besides you and the droids?"

The kid didn't drop his combat stance, but he did consider her.  "No," he replied after a moment.

The comm buzzed.  "Almost there," Telgar growled.  "Progress?"

"Better get him out of here," Shoya advised.

Anaale held out her hand.  "Come on, kid."

The boy's face hardened.

" _Wayii_."  She dragged a hand down her face.  "You can't stay, _ad'ika_.  It's not safe.  Come with us.  We'll find your family later, okay?"

He only lowered his stance.  Shoya strode silently and intently toward him.

"Careful, he's scrappy," Anaale warned, wondering at the smile tugging at her lips.

Shoya grunted as she scooped the kid up around the middle and tucked him under one arm.  He twisted even as she started walking away with him, but he couldn't wiggle out of her grip.  Anaale fell in behind them, brow furrowing.  Halfway back to the control room, the kid started elbowing Shoya's back with grim determination.

"You're gonna hurt yourself, kid," Anaale told him, but there was a tinge of awe in her tone.

On the other side of the complex, there was still blaster fire.  "Is the target down?" Telgar demanded.  Anaale shut the comlink off.

And then they were nearly safe.  The next door opened onto the suspension bridge, and Anaale could see the ship—Telgar's ship—from under Shoya's arm.  "Quit squirming," Shoya ordered.  She didn't give the kid a chance to answer, instead breaking out into a light jog across the bridge.  Anaale followed right behind.

They were on the landing platform when Telgar's voice, clear and close, said, "That's far enough."

Shoya put the kid down and turned.  Anaale rested her hand on the hilt of her vibroblade and faced the bounty hunter.

Telgar stood in a wide stance, repeater aimed squarely at her.  "Are you stupid?" he snarled.  "Running off with the target?  The client said _dead_."

"You got paid in advance," Shoya pointed out.

"It's not about the credits!" he spat.  "This isn't the kind of client you mess around with!  If we don't hand him this kid's head, _we're_ the ones who are dead!"

"You knew all along," Anaale accused.  The hand that wasn't on her blade shifted back toward the boy.  "You _knew_ it was just a kid."

"Look at this place!"  Telgar jerked the butt of his repeater back toward the complex.  "You think somebody puts _just a kid_ in a place like this?  You think somebody takes out a bounty on _just a kid_?"  He bared teeth.  "It's not a kid; it's a target.  We've all got families to think about, right?  Just get out of the way.  We split the credits, everyone goes home—"

A blaster shot slammed into Telgar's throat and knocked him backwards off the edge of the landing platform.  His speech was lost along with the rest of him in the molten lava.

Anaale stared over at Shoya, who was holstering her pistol.  "Is there a step two to that plan?" Anaale asked.

"Nah," Shoya admitted.

Anaale frowned, watching the kid.  He watched her right back with wide yellow eyes.  If what Telgar said was true, then all of them were in danger.  "This client sounds like bad business."

Shoya nodded.  "Time to lay low."

They boarded the ship.  To Anaale's surprise, the kid filed in right along with them without prompting, though he kept his distance.  He curled up in a corner of the cockpit where he could pin them with that serious gaze of his.

Anaale sat on the deck, careful not to come too close and scare him.  "Where do you live, kid?" she asked gently.

"I lived there," he answered.

"I mean where's your home?" she pressed.

The boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her and stayed silent.

Anaale sighed and scrubbed at the sweat on her forehead.  "Okay, let's try something else.  Where's your family?  Do you have a family?"

He eyed her warily as if he were afraid there was a wrong answer.  Finally, he informed her, "My master was going to come back for me."

The Togruta rocked backward.  "Your _what_?"

"My master said," the boy repeated a little louder, "he was going to come back for me."

" _Darjetiise_ ," Shoya reminded her from the pilot's chair.

Anaale shut her jaw with a click.  Of course—the Sith referred to themselves as masters and apprentices.  "So your master lived there, too?"

The kid shook his head.

She pressed her fingertips to the base of her montrals, trying to keep up.  "You lived there by yourself?"

He shrugged.  "There were droids," he said, a little reproachfully.

Anaale sighed again.  Finally, she tried one more time, "Don't you have any family to go back to?"

The kid glanced down, brow furrowed, looking confused and almost guilty.

"Do you at least have a name?"  When he was silent, she added, "I'm Anaale.  That's Shoya."  Shoya set the auto pilot and half turned to watch the kid sideways.

He scrutinized each of them in turn.  "Maul," he mumbled.

"Maul," Anaale repeated.  She tried a smile on him.  He didn't return it, but his eyes did light up.  It was in that one instant where he finally looked like a little boy who was safe and halfway content that Anaale knew she was absolutely suckered.  Her smile widened.  "That's a hell of a name, kid."


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years later, a family reunites.

The pilot of the _Star Shadow_ was much like a shadow himself.  His light, sleek armor, made for maneuverability over full protection, was matte black from helmet to boots.  It seemed to blend with every spot of gloom in the cockpit.  His T-visor was the only gleam in the darkness, catching and reflecting the blue light of the comm projector.  The only splash of color on him was a red x-like shape on one shoulder plate—the silhouette of a Togruta face.  His voice was as quiet as his armor, low and full.

Which was why the mood of the cockpit changed entirely when a grinning Zabrak in bright orange Mandalorian armor burst in.  His yellow eyes lit up, and he jumped into the copilot's chair.  " _Ana'buir_!"

The shimmering blue figure of Anaale smiled.  "Hey, Feral.  Behaving?"

"Ask Maul," Feral replied airily, clearly disinterested in the entire concept.  He smirked.  "You look taller over the comm, _buir_."

"Keep sassing me, kid," Anaale warned.

Feral just grinned again, immune to both his mother's tone and his brother's almost inaudible sigh.  "We are two jumps away," Maul told Anaale, patiently bringing them back on topic.  "No more than six hours."

"Good.  It's too quiet here.  Try to make it without running into any trouble, huh?"

Maul was on the verge of agreeing when a giant of a Zabrak barreled into the cockpit, a mountain of dark green armor plating.  " _There_ you are," he growled at Feral.

"What did you do this time?" Maul asked wearily without looking up.

Feral edged closer to the comm, making sure he was well in Anaale's view.  "I did nothing," he claimed.  "Savage's sense of vengeance is as overdeveloped as the rest of him."

The comment was one too many offenses, and Savage lunged at Feral with a snarl.  Feral ducked nimbly under his arm and darted around the small cockpit—until Savage caught him by the horns.  Feral yelled in protest.

"Boys!" Anaale called.  There was a practiced tone of command to her voice.  "Save it for when you're home!"

Savage, chastised, let go of Feral at once.  The youngest Zabrak scowled and massaged his scalp.

"Six more hours," Anaale repeated, exasperated.  "You think you can all make it in one piece?"

"Yes, _buir_ ," they replied obediently.

"Good.  Can't wait to see you, _ad'ike_."

The comm shut off, leaving the three brothers in a silent cockpit.  Feral eased by Savage, offering a shrug by way of apology, and slid back into the copilot's seat.  Savage remained where he was, crossing his arms with a frown.  After a moment, he said accusingly to Maul, "You didn't tell her about the job."

Maul's gaze remained on the console.  "I will tell her when I decide whether we are taking it."

"When _you_ decide?" Feral demanded, eyes flashing.

Savage's nostrils flared.  "You should have told her," he insisted.

" _Ana'buir_ doesn't need to know everything," Maul retorted.  When he finally turned to face Savage, his brother's eyes were narrowed disapprovingly.  "At least," Maul allowed, voice softening again, "not right away."

Savage mulled over that and then shrugged.  "Whatever you say, _vod_."

* * *

Anaale was waiting for them when they landed, helmet donned against the dust the ship stirred up.  By the times the engines had whined into shutdown and the air had cleared, another taller figure stood beside her.

Feral was the first down the boarding ramp.  "Shoya!" he called.  " _Ana'buir_ didn't tell us you would be here."  He clasped her arm enthusiastically.

"She didn't know," Shoya explained shortly.  "Just got back."

Anaale pulled Feral into a quick hug, and he was sure to rest his chin meaningfully on the top of her helmet.  "Did you get smaller, _buir_?"  His smugness lasted until Shoya smacked the back of his head.

Savage accepted his welcome with less trouble, though Anaale barely came up to his shoulder.  "Missed you," he rumbled.

"Missed you, too, kid."  Anaale finally pulled her helmet off to beam up at him.  She had to stretch upward to tug teasingly on one of the too-long horns protruding from his helmet.  "Thanks for not killing Feral."

Maul finally joined them from the ship.  Shoya watched him intently until he was only a few meters away and then strode toward him.

"Shoya—" Anaale began.

Undeterred, Shoya caught Maul around the middle and hefted him over her shoulder.  Maul suffered this tradition with practiced resignation.  "Not any heavier," Shoya decided matter-of-factly.  She dropped him back on his feet.  "Still haven't grown."

Maul sighed.  He embraced his mother with one arm around her shoulders.  She did him the favor of stifling her laughter, though he still had to suffer Feral's snickering.  "Did the job go okay?" Anaale asked.  Maul hummed in agreement.

"We have something to tell you," Savage announced gravely.  He dropped his gaze when Maul shot him a sharp look, but set his jaw stubbornly.

"Yes," Maul managed.  Anaale's open, expectant expression gave him a jolt of guilt, but he was not ready to tell her about the contract they had been offered.  Perhaps he never would be.  If she told him not to take it—if she even asked him not to—he would have to turn it down.  And he _needed_ to do this.  "Savage remembered something else."

Anaale smiled brightly.  "Really?"

Savage hesitated when she turned to him, but though it wasn't the news he had been pushing Maul to share, it _was_ true.  And Anaale's enthusiasm was infectious.  "Yes."

" _Ad'ika_ , that's great!"  Anaale clasped his arm proudly.  "Come in and tell me about it.  You boys hungry?"

They always were, and together they went inside.  Meals became an event when they were all gathered together like this, but never more than when Savage recovered his memories.  The dark work that had turned him into a behemoth had reduced his mind to rage and obedience.  It had been a furious living weapon that had found them all those years ago.  Even then he had been Maul's and Feral's brother, and he always would be.  But it had taken time for him to remember how to be Savage again.

"First one in a while," Shoya commented.

Savage grunted.  "Most of what I lost is back, I think."  His shoulders hunched in embarrassment when he caught the way Anaale and Feral were bustling around, bringing in food.  "It's nothing big, _Ana'buir_."

"We're still celebrating," Anaale told him firmly, still beaming.  She tugged on one of his horns again as she passed, and he sighed but didn't argue.  "Tell me about it."

Savage frowned at his hands and spoke slowly.  "It was just... running through the village.  On Dathomir.  I was with a friend—Ketaro."  At an encouraging nod from Maul, his voice grew stronger.  "I had a friend named Ketaro.  I remember him talking about the future.  Even when we were young, he was certain the Nightsisters would choose him."

Anaale sat down, her smile laced with worry.  Shoya, chewing some root cake, threw a piece of it at her.  Anaale huffed at her friend but her face cleared.  "Well," she said warmly to Savage, "that's one more thing you took back from them."

Feral landed in his seat with a plate full of roast.  "Why don't you remember the time I beat you in sparring while blindfolded?"

"Because that never happened," Savage growled.  His fist hammered the table.  "You made it up!"  Feral gave him a quick, sharp grin.  Anaale snorted, shoulders shaking.  And then Savage's scowl disappeared into a sheepish laugh that broke the remaining solemnity around the table.  Even Shoya's mouth quirked in a lopsided smile.

But then Feral leaned forward.  He had replaced the upper portion of his armor with a dark tunic, and as he moved it revealed the line of scar tissue that ran from his neck down past his collar bone.  Maul's amusement vanished.  From what Feral had told him of the trials on Dathomir, Savage's friend Ketaro was dead.  But that was not the worst the Nightsisters could do.  When they had finished with Savage, he had been so much their tool to control that he would turn on anyone, even those he had once given everything to protect.

And Feral had the scar to prove it.

"Maul?"

Maul's gaze snapped up to meet his mother's concerned look.  "You okay, kid?" she asked.

He smoothed over his expression.  "Just... thinking.  I'm all right."

Anaale smiled, the same helplessly genuine smile she'd always given him.  Maul didn't have to force himself to return it.  "You think too much," she teased.

"He has to," Feral assured her as loftily as he could with his mouth full.  "He's the brains."

"By necessity," Shoya deadpanned.

The protesting uproar around the table drowned out Maul's darker thoughts and lasted for the rest of the meal.  He leaned back and ate as he listened to them, a smirk tugging intermittently at his lips.  He would not have had it any other way.

* * *

That night, Maul slipped outside, armor rendering him almost invisible in the darkness.  The night air was warm and still.  Maul's yellow eyes shone in the darkness until the moment he donned his helmet and stepped softly toward his ship.

He knew that Anaale would not approve.  He even understood her reasons.  Out of respect for that, he would not involve his brothers.  He could handle this on his own.  For as long as he could remember Maul had been training, making himself stronger and faster and deadlier.  He was a warrior.

For a moment, he paused outside the _Star Shadow_ to be sure that the was not being followed.  Everyone in his family slept lightly for different reasons.  But there was no movement, no sense of any awareness in the Force, so he entered the ship.

The comm came to life under his fingers, casting a blue glow across the cockpit.  He checked the transmitter and opened a recent channel.  Within moments, the image of a Rodian appeared before him.

Surprise flickered over the Rodian's face.  "Maul."  He glanced over his shoulder.  He was likely receiving this from some city cantina.  When he was satisfied that no one was eavesdropping, he leaned closer into his comlink.  "Have you reconsidered taking up the job?  The pay is still good, but it's getting crowded.  Mercenary quota is almost full.  So it has to be now.  You in?"

"Yes."  Quiet as Maul's voice was, it held a terrible fire.  "I will join the assault on the Nightsisters."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations—  
> buir: parent  
> Ana'buir: the equivalent of "Mama Ana"  
> vod: sibling  
> ad'ike: plural of ad'ika, "kiddos"


	3. Together

Their time together was even shorter than usual.  Most true Mandalorians left in the galaxy were bounty hunters, and Maul and his family were no exception.  Travel was a constant among them.  Anaale and Shoya had taken a job on one of the core worlds, and Shoya in particular was eager to get there as early as possible to scout the city and pick out sniping positions.  The morning was a flurry of activity as the two older Mandalorians prepared to leave.  Or at least, Anaale prepared to leave.  Shoya shouldered her rifle and a small pack and was gone.

"I swear, it's like she _prefers_ not having a homeworld," Anaale grumbled as she stuffed more rations into a belt pouch.

Feral, by far the least inclined of the Zabrak brothers to early mornings, squinted blearily at her.  "Did you even live on Mandalore, _buir_?"

"No, not long enough to matter," Anaale sighed.  "Everyone was scattered after the clan feuds, and the _darmanda_ pacifists came in and set up camp.  All that was going on right about the time I was adopted.  I didn't really understand it at the time."  She leaned back to look critically over her supplies.  "Can I borrow some of your thermal detonators, _ad'ika_?"

Feral's eyes were yellow slits, and his cheek was propped on his fist.  "I don't want them back after you've used them," he replied smartly.

Anaale gave him an exasperated look.  He yawned innocuously.

Savage ducked into the house.  He was more alert than his younger brother, but not by much.  "Ship's ready," he grunted.

"Thanks, kid."  She shouldered him fondly as she made her way back to the small armory that was Feral's room.  "Maul," she called, "you sure you wanna fly me there?"

Maul, sitting quietly in the corner of the main room half-clad in armor, had avoided drawing attention to himself.  But at Anaale's question, both his brothers turned to him—Savage questioning, Feral suspicious.  Maul did not return their gazes, and he kept his voice even.  "Of course, _buir_."

Feral studied Maul for a moment more and then yelled back down the hall.  "Why didn't you go with Shoya?"

"She didn't wait around, as usual," Anaale huffed.  She reappeared with a short belt of thermal detonators slung over her shoulder.  "I think I'm ready.  You boys don't Force-push the house over or whatever while I'm gone."

"We don't use our Force powers much when you're not around, _Ana'buir_ ," Savage murmured.

Anaale's face softened.  "Still?  I was just kidding, _ad'ika_.  That rule was for when you were younger.  I trust you not to fry anything with lightning now, you know."  At Savage's uncertain silence, she added firmly, "And if anybody has a problem with it, I trust you to give them what's coming to them."

It was true that flaunting Force abilities in the face of a Mandalorian almost never ended well, but Maul wondered whether his brothers knew that Mando opinion of them was the least of Anaale's worries.  He remembered hiding his powers.  He remembered the fear and simmering anger radiating off her, her arm tight around his shoulders, whenever the Republic's precious guardians came too near.  She had allowed him more freedom to use the Force not when she began to trust his control, but when she began to trust that he was too old for the Jedi to try to snatch away.

Savage put his hand on Anaale's shoulder.  " _K'oyacyi_ ," he offered.

" _K'oyacyi_!" Feral echoed.  "Kick some ass, _Ana'buir_."

Anaale laughed.  "You got it, _ad'ika_."

With a quiet "I'll be back," Maul followed her out.  Anaale hiked up the ramp of the _Star Shadow_ with a line of explosives in one hand and her helmet in the other.  She was settling into the pilot's chair when Maul joined her in the cockpit.  The ship shuddered as it lifted off the ground, landing gear clanking into place, and then they were gone.

They had long since made the jump to hyperspace when Anaale finally broke the silence.  "You expecting trouble, kid?"

Maul's brow furrowed, and she pointed to the darksaber hilt clipped to his belt.  His hand closed over it.  "I always keep it with me."  And he did; he had forgone some of his armor to better give the impression that he didn't intend to see combat, but he had not been able to leave the darksaber behind.  He unclipped it to turn it over in his hands.  "It's my... preferred weapon."

"You never cared for vibroblades, that's for sure," Anaale agreed.  It was a generous understatement: her earliest attempts to train him had mostly included him seething about the unfamiliar balance of a solid matter weapon.  "But you're better with that thing than I've ever been with a blade.  I'm glad I found it."

She had searched for it for months.  Maul remembered.  She had chased down black market contacts and taken trips to distant Mandalorian colonies to give him the weapon in his hands.  "It wasn't easy."  He frowned.  "I was... ungrateful at first."

"Hey, you were twelve, Maul.  You weren't supposed to be grateful."

Maul hummed.  "Even so—thank you."

"Nah, I wanted to get it for you."  Anaale smiled gently.  "You know, that was the first time you ever asked me for something.  Couldn't say no to you, kid."

Maul examined the slim, familiar hilt.  He added, "And after all, you _did_ destroy my first lightsaber."

"Look, I know that was—"  She broke off when she spotted his small smirk.  Snorting, she reached over to pull at his horns.  "You sure love giving me a hard time, kid."

Maul grinned.

It wasn't long before the starlines of hyperspace cleared into the outline of a planet.  They had arrived on its night side, and the surface twinkled with clusters of light.  Maul brought the ship in while Anaale commed Shoya.

"Sounds like she already has a plan," Anaale noted as she clicked the comm off.

"Shoya?"  Maul guided the ship onto a landing pad.  "She did arrive early."

"Only by a few hours.  Besides, she plans like Feral."  Anaale stood and pulled her helmet on.  "Thanks for the lift."

" _K'oyacyi_ ," Maul said seriously.

She squeezed his shoulder.  "See you at home, _ad'ika_."  She marched out into the spaceport.  Maul waited until he could see her, a purple-armored figure striding determinedly toward the city, to take off.  As soon as the sensors indicated he had escaped the planet's gravity well, he pulled up a set of coordinates and jumped to hyperspace.

In a storage container in one of the aft rooms of the ship was the rest of Maul's armor.  He had left it there the night before so that he could suit up on the way.  He had several hours before he reached the rendezvous from which the bounty hunters would launch their assault, so he didn't rush.  He unpacked his armor one piece at a time.  He checked every strap and clasp.  When he was in full armor, he drew a long rifle and several packs of ammunition from the back of the container.  His darksaber, as always, hung at his hip.

The ship was oddly quiet.  Maul assured himself that he would be back before his brothers had too much time to worry about him, and then he settled in to wait.

* * *

The proximity alert pulled Maul back to the present just as the ship dropped out of hyperspace.  He darted into the cockpit.  He was exactly where he had expected to be, a parsec out from Dathomir and a fraction of that distance from the rendezvous point.  And someone else was here, too.

A ship bore down on him.  Maul wrenched the _Star Shadow_ out of the way—but the other ship dogged him, peeling starboard to stay on top of him.  Maul grimly realized that this was no accident, no innocent ship that had wandered too close to a hyperspace lane.  The Force warned him, and he dove.  Even so, the ship shuddered from an impact he couldn't see.  The engines strained.  Jaw tightening, Maul pulled stabilizer power into the sublight drives.  But even as he worked to escape, he heard a series of loud, echoing clangs from somewhere behind him.

He was being boarded.

Maul growled and shut down the engines.  Slipping the darksaber into his hand, he treaded toward the hatch and watched it from around the corner, completely still.  The hiss of pressurization sounded from the other side.  The instant before it slid open, Maul activated the darksaber, stepped out into the corridor—and faltered.

The hatch opened to reveal Savage and Feral standing in the passage.  Savage was a thunderstorm in the Force, dark and ominous.  But when they removed their helmets, it was Feral, lip twitching into something like a snarl, who drew Maul's attention.  He had never seen Feral so furious.

Maul closed down the darksaber as Feral advanced on him.  "We're not _stupid_ ," his youngest brother hissed, glaring down at him.  "Did you think you were going to leave us behind?  Did you think we wouldn't _notice_?"

"You shouldn't be here," Maul told him.

Feral's voice jumped half an octave.  "Revenge on the Nightsisters isn't yours to take!"

"Not alone," Savage rumbled.  Disappointment was not a look Savage wore often, and Maul found he couldn't meet his brother's eyes.  " _Vod_ , if we're going to do this, we should all go."

Maul lowered his gaze, ashamed—but strangely proud, too.  It was clear that he wasn't going to shake his brothers, and perhaps he had been wrong to try.  "You're right," he said softly.  He looked up and put his hands on their shoulders.  "We are _all_ warriors.  And it is you two who deserve vengeance against the Nightsisters."  He stepped back.  "Will you let me come with you?"

Feral's face softened into a lopsided smile, and he and Savage nodded at each other.  "Of course, _vod_ ," Feral replied.  Savage grinned and clasped Maul's hand.

"Then we should hurry," Maul decided.  "I will send you the coordinates."  He sprinted back to the cockpit.  The _Star Shadow_ kicked when Feral detatched the docking hatch, but Maul soon had it steady again.  Maul led them to the rendezvous point, where a mismatched collection of ships was waiting.  Maul opened a comm channel.  "Maul, reporting in."

A Rodian voice buzzed over the speakers.  "You made it.  Who's that with you?"

"My brothers."

"Three Mandalorians in one place!" the Rodian crowed.  "We shouldn't hear any complaints.  Everyone likes bringing big guns.  As soon as we get the signal from the droid army, we jump."

"Understood."

The comm shut off, leaving Maul alone in the cockpit.  But if he reached out with the Force, he could sense his brothers nearby.  "Together, then," he murmured.

As one, they made the jump toward Dathomir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations—  
> darmanda: no longer Mandalorian  
> k'oyacyi: "good luck" or "hang in there," but literally "stay alive"


	4. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle on Dathomir.

The Separatist army was already on the surface engaging the Nightsisters when the small force of bounty hunters arrived.  Maul could see the flash of laser bolts even as he descended through the thick, cloudy atmosphere.  Dathomir bloomed beneath him like a sickly red flower.  The planet itself seeped an ancient rage, and Maul felt his brothers' answering anger.  The dark side of the Force was strong here.

And there were so very many Nightsisters to kill.

The bounty hunters swooped over the battle and landed safely behind Separatist lines.  With so much protective plant life and a temple to infiltrate, ground forces were of much more use than air support.  That was fine with Maul.  He wanted to see to their deaths personally.  Long prepared for combat, he disembarked from his ship as soon as it touched down.  Savage and Feral joined him from an unfamiliar vessel.  Maul tilted his head toward it questioningly.

"Stole it," Feral explained reasonably.  Savage nodded.

Maul sighed.

A voice like metal tearing blasted over their comms, so abrupt that some of the mercenaries around them brought their weapons up on instinct.  "About time," it growled.

The Rodian middle man jogged down the boarding ramp of his own ship, shouldering a heavy repeater that looked too large for his slim frame.  In one hand was a comlink.  "General Grievous," he said professionally.  "Tell us where to go."

Over the comm, the Separatist general made a noise like a gravel hauler being exposed to vacuum.  "Flank them!  I want all of these witches trapped in the path of my droids!"

"Understood."

"Be quick about it!" Grievous added.  The comm channel cleared.

To the Rodian's credit, he was unperturbed.  "We need two teams to start fencing them in," he told the bounty hunters.  "One to start on each side.  Our best bet is to leave someone to cover the area every hundred meters.  Push them toward the droids; let them do the work.  Is everything clear?"

"Let's start shooting already!" shouted a human woman in the back, and the ensuing cheers were enough of an answer for the Rodian.  He divided their forces roughly in half and sent them to opposite ends of the Separatist front line.

The Separatists had not hired any rookie mercenaries.  They jogged past the staccato blaster fire not as a group but spread out to let each other work.  There were more than enough targets.  The stretch of terrain to the left of Maul's team was swarming with ragged forms.  He caught sight of a handful of Nightsisters in the cover of the trees.  They watched over the charge as the emaciated soldiers made their jerky way toward the droid army—Nightsisters long dead, another dark working of the witches' magic.  To the right, the land began to slope upward.  Maul angled right.  " _K'oyacyi_ ," he said into his comm.

" _K'oyacyi_!" answered his brothers.  They split up.

Maul knew the buzz of Savage's electrostaff like his brother's voice, and he didn't have to look to know that Savage was making his charge right along the side of the Nightsister ranks.  Maul raced up the hill, slinging his sniper rifle into his hands as he went.

Maul had always used the Force in combat.  It gave him more strength, more speed, and better reflexes.  That edge was all he ever needed to win—the extra push of rage.  Down here on the surface of Dathomir, the air was thick with rage.  It was easy to remember why he was here.  Feral's scar.  Savage arriving empty-eyed, missing half his life.  Their fear, their worry, their bitter memories of living under the Nightsisters' collective thumb.

Unbidden, Maul's every anger boiled to the surface.  A cage on a planet of fire.  Never knowing his own brothers until he was grown.  The Jedi, who would have stolen him away from Anaale given the chance.  Every quiet moment when he had known the fear that what he had could be taken away.  It all drew in the dark side and gave him focus and power.

Maul sighted through the scope of his rifle.  He moved with the Force, minute twitches to adjust the aim of the weapon.  The Force told him the perfect moment to fire.

Half a kilometer away, a Nightsister fell dead.

Without moving position, Maul swung the rifle around to another archer and fired again.  She dropped her weapon to the ground and was already dead by the time she followed it.  Maul leapt to his feet and ran swiftly across the crest of the hill, gaze sweeping the battle down below.  Savage was doing well, carving with brute force through whatever witches, living or dead, came to meet him.  It took Maul a moment to spot Feral, and that worried him more than anything.  Neither Feral nor his armor lent themselves to stealth.

He found Feral when one of the trees the Nightsister archers used as perches went up in a sheath of flame.

Further along than Maul, Feral wound back and threw another incendiary grenade.  White fire blossomed out from the device, consuming two more Nightsisters where they stood.  Feral's manic laughter came over the comm.  It was the rush that came sudden freedom from an old fear.  Maul smiled sharply for him.

The bounty hunters worked their way back, numbers thinning as they left people behind to hold the line.  Maul and his brothers kept moving.  Those who stayed along the sides of the battle would keep the enemy pinned in, but it would be those who took up the rear position who would push the Nightsisters back toward Grievous.  Feral and Savage wanted to attack, and Maul intended to join them.

When the bounty hunters had the Nightsisters fully surrounded, the Zabrak brothers, the Rodian, and a Kyuzo and his anooba made up the rear assault.  For a moment, they formed a front of their own, standing at the ready.  And then one of the Nightsisters noticed their presence and drew her laser bow.

Maul brought his rifle up to his shoulder and shot her down.

Savage roared and barreled straight down the middle of the Nightsisters, spinning his electrostaff.  Feral, pulling out wickedly modified flare guns, followed him in with war cries of his own.  The Kyuzo and his anooba darted to one side.  Maul got down on one knee as he'd watched Shoya do a thousand times when she wanted a balance between stability and a quick exit.  "I will provide cover," he told the Rodian.

"Thanks."  The Rodian's repeater warmed up with a whine, and then it was showering deadly bolts on the Nightsisters before him.  Together they cut down the shambling forms like so much dry grass, and their living brethren did not last much longer.  Maul watched for any archers and took them out one by one.

Savage was the least armed among the mercenaries, but he spearheaded the charge.  The Nightsisters had wanted to make a monster of him, and now they would reap what they had sown.  His staff moved like lightning, knocking his enemies aside and crushing them when they fell.

Whoever escaped Savage had to face Feral.  Smoke followed the youngest brother across the battlefield.  He fired explosive rounds from his dual pistols, and when those failed him, he had innumerable grenades and detonators to turn to.  The Nightsisters could see him coming but could not stand against his assault.  And when they tried, Maul's shots found them.

 _This_ was revenge.  The very planet the Nightsisters ruled was feeding the brothers the power to overthrow them.  The strength they had given Savage was wrapped around their throats.  The boy they had cast aside was impossible to ignore, a storm of fire.  The Nightsisters had made their own end.

Over the noise of battle came a sound Maul knew all too well.

Two red lightsabers activated in the midst of the fighting.  The witch wielding them stood over one of her fallen sisters.  Her raw fury ripped through the Force like a shockwave.  Even before she leapt an impossible distance through the air, lightsabers whirling, it was obvious that she was not just a Nightsister.  She was a Sith.

And she was headed straight toward Savage.

Maul slung his rifle over his shoulder by the strap and ran.  He pushed himself as fast as he could go, past hissing bolts and grasping corpses.  The crackling sound of an energy weapon against Savage's electrostaff drove him on.  Feral's voice shouted over the comm.  "Savage, move back!  I can't get a clear shot!"

Savage grunted.  "I'm trying!"

Through a gap in the Nightsister forces, Maul could just see the Sith driving Savage back.  Her blows were raining down at a speed he couldn't match for long.  A blur of orange shot toward them, and even as husks of figures blocked Maul's path again, his helmet filled with the sound of Feral's wordless yell.

" _Feral!_ " Savage bellowed.

The comm shrieked.  Maul burst clear of the hordes of undead Nightsisters just in time to see the Sith turn back to Savage, lightsabers angled by her sides, features twisted in a snarl.  Feral was slumped face-down against the roots of a tree, his helmet sizzling a few meters away.  "You're those two Nightbrothers Mother Talzin talked about," she realized.  She lunged toward Savage.  "They should have done away with you when they had the chance!"

Maul's darksaber snapped into existence and met her attack head-on.  Her sabers crashed against his and bore down.  He deepened his stance and held her back.

"How many Nightbrothers _are_ there at this massacre?" she snarled.

"We are not Nightbrothers," Maul bit out.  "We are _Mandalorians._ "

Behind him were thundering footsteps, and he sensed Savage going to Feral's side.  That knowledge was all he needed.

Maul lashed out.  The Sith leapt back and landed in guard position, and Maul charged after her.  Maul's form was perfect—every strike sharp and precise, given strength by the motion of the rest of his body.  But it was not good enough.  The Sith weaved around his attacks.  If she had met him with force, he might have beaten her back, but instead she deflected him.  He was being pulled forward—maneuvered away from his brothers.  She moved fluidly and purposefully.  Her lightsabers danced around his, fire flickering around shadow.

It was not enough.  His training and his connection to the Force were not enough.  She had those, too, in abundance.  It would not be enough, and soon he would be dead.

So Maul called on _more_.

The Sith's lightsabers halted in midair.  She strained, baring teeth.  For a moment, the red blades eased closer to his neck—and then he threw her back.  She tumbled over the rocky ground.  His breath hissed with the forgotten effort, but then anger burned through the beginnings of weariness.  The Force swirled around him.

She looked up, icy blue eyes wide.  "Sith," she snarled.  She sprang to her feet, face contorted in rage.  "So Dooku sends my _replacement_ to kill me!"

This time, when they clashed, neither gave ground.  The two former Sith apprentices struck again and again, the crackling of their blades reverberating around the battlefield.  Doubt chased the edges of Maul's concentration.  He had come for vengeance on the Nightsisters, not caring that it meant fighting alongside the Separatist army.  But he was not eager to involve himself in a personal vendetta between a Sith and an apprentice.  He didn't want their attention.

Yet he did not have to fear them.  Not with this much power.  Here on Dathomir, he could achieve not only vengeance for his brothers against the Nightsisters, but for himself against the Sith.  His focus narrowed to the Sith before him.  His darksaber sang in the air, keeping her blades at bay but never managing to sink into her throat.

"Ventress!" howled the general's voice.  A frame of bone-white metal lurched toward them.  Four lightsabers spun around the general, one in each hand.  "The Nightsisters are dead, traitor!  Come and face me!"

The Sith set her jaw.  Maul could see the desire to kill in her—but also the knowledge that she could not hold her own against both of them. Cursing hoarsely, she swiped at Maul to throw him off balance and vaulted over him.  She hit the ground sprinting back toward the temple.

Maul raced after her, darksaber steady to one side.  She was fast, but given time, he could catch her.  He could—

"Maul," called Savage's voice over the comm.  "We have to get Feral back to the ship."

Maul slowed to a halt, watching the form of the Sith outpace him and disappear into the distant temple.  His chest heaved with each breath.  "I'm coming," he said.

Feral was dazed and in pain, but he was alive.  He had one hand pressed tightly to his jaw, and he refused to speak or let them see to his injury.  In his other hand he kept a grip on his helmet.  There was a clean four-centimeter cut through the bottom edge.  Savage kept a hand on his shoulder to guide him back toward the _Star Shadow_.  Maul led the way tiredly, watching the quiet battlefield for any surprises.

But the only moving things in sight were bounty hunters and droids.  General Grievous had returned to his troops to gather them for a last sweep of the area.  As he was busy telling the Rodian, he had no further need for their help.

"You are _dismissed_ ," the general rasped.

The Rodian leaned on his repeater.  "We haven't been paid yet."

Grievous snarled and waved him away.  "Someone else will take care of that!  You will be contacted.  Now get your rabble out of the way!"  His gold eyes landed on the approaching form of Maul and narrowed.

The Rodian was unconvinced, but Maul had no doubt that the general was not the authority to talk to about payment.  The Separatists usually paid their bounty hunters, and it wasn't the military officers who did so.  Maul and his brothers kept walking.

A droid with its head buried in a datapad marched straight into the conversation.  "Uh, General, Lord Sidious wants to speak with you."

Maul froze.

The general growled, a distant, metallic rumble, and lashed out with a backhand.  The droid yelped.  "Not now!"

_Lord Sidious wants to speak with you._

"We should go," Savage rumbled.  His hand landed on Maul's shoulder and steered him onward.  Maul looked straight ahead without seeing.  It was Savage who herded both him and Feral onto the _Star Shadow_.

_Lord Sidious._

The drives whined as they were pushed at full speed to escape velocity.  While the other bounty hunters lingered by the Separatist army worrying about pay, while Grievous spoke to Sidious, Maul and his brothers escaped.  They had vanished from the system before anyone else knew to look for them.

_Master._


	5. Consequences

Something in the Force was shifting.  It was distant and new, but it held an intangible familiarity, and it was that which drew him to contact the general.  The ripples of whatever had happened still lapped at the edges of his awareness.

The general appeared on the comm, bending to one knee on a frame made to look like death.  "My lord Sidious."

"Do not keep me waiting again, General," Sidious bit out.

"My apologies, my lord."  The general bowed his head a little more, but his voice did not change.  Sidious did not care for the way the Separatist creation still spoke like a man of rank instead of a tool of war.  Fortunately his dealings with the creature were few and brief.  "The battle was taking my attention."

Dooku's personal battles were taking up too many resources, but this difficulty in being rid of his pet assassin proved that Sidious had been right to order her disposed of.  Dooku, the fool, had been training her too well—like an apprentice, not a soldier.  "I take it you were successful."

"The Nightsisters are dead," the general rasped.  He paused to wheeze out a cough.  "Ventress escaped the mercenary, but—"

"What mercenary?" Sidious demanded.

The alien eyes narrowed, perceptible even over the comm.  Clearly the general did not care for being interrupted.  "Several mercenaries were brought in for the attack, my lord.  Three of them were Mandalorians.  Zabraks."

Sidious tilted his head back minutely.  Zabraks.  The tremor in the Force...

"One of them engaged Ventress," the general continued.  "He used the Force."

Sidious no longer doubted what he had sensed.  "You will await my orders on this matter, General."

"Yes, my lord."

The Sith lord turned the comm off.  Slowly, baring ruined teeth, he smiled.

It seemed Plagueis had not been so thorough as he believed.  His old master had never been able to face the idea of Sidious having an apprentice of his own.  He had feared that his apprentice would use the boy as an ally to betray him—not that that had saved him in the end.  Still, with the young Zabrak as an assassin, Sidious would have been able to extend his reach and act against his master in more subtle ways.  But before the boy was old enough to be useful, Plagueis had made arrangements for his untimely demise.

Until now, Sidious had believed him to have been successful.  But now it seemed Maul was very much alive.

* * *

The cockpit of the _Star Shadow_ had been Maul's haven since his first day with the ship.  But now even the familiar chair and soothing blur of starlines couldn't put him at ease.  He sat with his hands clasped, yellow eyes dull with inward thought.

The cockpit door hissed open, and a heavy step fell behind him.  Maul half turned, brow furrowed questioningly.

"He's resting," Savage rumbled.  He landed in the other chair.  He had worked his gauntlets off to see to Feral, and he scratched at his jaw with a bare hand.  "He'll be fine."

Maul nodded.  It was a matter of centimeters, but Feral had only suffered a graze from the Sith's lightsabers.  It could have been far worse.

"What about you?" Savage asked.

Maul had escaped unhurt but not—as his brother perhaps sensed—wholly unscathed.  He looked up to Savage but started at what he saw.  "Your horns—"

"Oh.  Hn."  Savage reached up to feel out the damage.  Three of his horns had been cut short in a clean, flat way that only a lightsaber could have managed.  His face pulled in a frown, but he shrugged.  "They'll grow back."  He bared his teeth in a vicious imitation of a smile.  "The Nightsisters won't."  Maul was too preoccupied with berating himself to reply (why hadn't he noticed sooner?), and some of the ferocity left his brother's bearing.  After a moment, Savage added, "I wasn't expecting a Sith."

Maul's expression darkened, and his voice only grew softer.  "Nor was I."

His brother frowned out at the rush of hyperspace.  The silence in the cockpit was heavy, and Maul did not know how to lift it.  His thoughts were clouded in the aftermath of grasping for so much of the dark side of the Force.  The reminder of his master, and the memories it had brought, only made it that much more difficult to escape his own reveries.

"What are we going to tell _Ana'buir_?" Savage asked at last.

A chill of anxiety swept away Maul's distracted thoughts.  He was no longer a child, but this was a breed of disobedience Anaale wouldn't be accustomed to, not from him.  He had _lied_ to her.  He had put her beloved sons in danger—

And Anaale was his mother, not his master.  She was not Lord Sidious.

"The truth," he decided.

Savage nodded approvingly and settled back, apparently content to let silence fall.  Maul found that it was a little less oppressive this time.

A sharp yelp from aft caused them to start.  Both brothers rushed to the door.  It opened to reveal Feral, holding his jaw and squinting painfully.

"I tried to yawn," he admitted sheepishly between gritted teeth.  "Maul, _no_ , don't _touch_ it—"  He swatted at his elder brother's hand.  "It's fine!"

Maul sighed quietly but let it be.  Feral looked anything but fine.  The lightsaber wound had been the worst of his injuries, but his opposite cheek was swollen in a bruise and small cuts covered his face.  But if this was the first time he'd been clipped by a lightsaber, at least it wasn't the first time he had face-planted against a tree.

Feral strode over to the copilot's chair and sprawled in it.  From there he studied both his brothers intently.  "What do you look so grim about?  You're finally better looking than me."

Maul snorted despite his mood. Savage rumbled irritably, "You're welcome."  Feral grinned as much as he could manage.  "It'll scar," Savage added.

"It won't be the first scar you've received from the Nightsisters," Maul murmured.

"But it will be the last," Feral finished for him.  He rubbed his bandaged jaw. “I think I’ll like it,” he said. “It makes a good story. Shoya always says you’re not a real Mando until you have a scar.” He grinned. “Now I'm twice the Mando you are.”

Savage shook his head. “You tackling the Sith like that—that was _Mandokarla_ , _vod_.” Just as Feral’s chest puffed out, he added, “And stupid.”

“ _Di’kut’la_ ,” Maul agreed.  "But perhaps _Ana'buir_ will see the courage in it."

"She won't be mad," Feral assured them confidently.  "We won.  _Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur_."  _Today is a good day for someone else to die_ —one of Shoya's favorite sayings.  Sagely, Feral added, "Nightsisters especially."

Feral’s mood would not be dimmed,  and Maul found himself unable to resist his brother’s joy for long.  This was what they did for each other: dragged each other out of dark memories of brutal pasts. The gleam in Feral’s eye said clearly that Maul would not be allowed to linger in memories of the Sith, not while there was a victory to celebrate. And now that Feral was back to himself, Maul had to admit it was a victory indeed.

Then why did he have a bad feeling about this?

* * *

The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was built not like a city compound but like the stone temples of old.  The corridors were wide and so high-ceilinged that even the lightest footsteps echoed up and down their lengths.  Sunlight, turned a musty gold by the smog, streamed in through windows.  Rooms and areas were joined by tall, elaborate archways.  The complex was vast in a way that felt open and welcoming.

It was an elegant facade.  The temple was secure, and no part of it was better protected from intruders than the chamber that sat on the top floor.  No one entered unless the Jedi Council wished it.

The masters sat in a circle and talked quietly among themselves while they waited for the proceedings to begin.  No one called the Council to order; the room was filled with the eddies and flows of their thoughts and attentions, so that they could sense the start of the discussion without it being announced.

So it was that silence fell across the chamber just before Mace Windu said gravely, "Republic intelligence has returned with a troubling report.  The chancellor's office forwarded it directly to us.  He recognized it as a Jedi matter."

The Force flickered with surprise across the room.  "It really must be something, then," Kenobi mused aloud.  Despite granting them military rank, the chancellor had been taking more and more affairs away from the Jedi.

Windu raised his eyebrows and continued, "They've located another Sith."

Yoda hummed and shook his head.  "In the past, always two, there have been.  For their number to grow... only darkness, can this mean."

"We cannot let this go on," Windu agreed.  "This Sith must be found and taken care of before he can add to their cause.  And it must be done _now_."

"Beyond the war, this goes," Yoda warned.  "And so from the war, whatever knights and masters we need, we will spare for this task."

Kenobi stroked his beard.  "We'll need plenty.  Every Sith I've come across is no slouch in combat."

"Are you suggesting a task force?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked.

"If the Council is willing," Kenobi said cautiously.

Yoda closed his eyes.  "In agreement, are we?"

A dozen consciousnesses swirled around the chamber, slowly aligning with the idea of what they had to do.  Every Jedi knew the moment the last of them was convinced and they reached a consensus.  Yoda nodded and opened his eyes.

"A vital and dangerous mission, this is," the small master said.  "Decide on which of our warriors to send, we will."

"And then," Windu declared darkly, "the Sith will die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations—  
> Mandokarla: being admirably Mandalorian; brave, loyal, etc.  
> di'kut'la: stupid; literally "like one who forgets to put their pants on"

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a translations—  
> aruetiise: outsiders  
> wayii: a generally surprised exclamation, like "good grief"  
> ad'ika: a term of endearment similar to "kiddo"  
> darjetiise: Sith, plural


End file.
